


Before the Snow

by emmykay



Series: The Last Ship [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Community: kakairu_kink, Dark, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 01:30:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmykay/pseuds/emmykay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kakashi tries to learn about his humanity and vulnerability.  Iruka tries to learn his shinobi way.  Scenes of growing up in a Hidden Village, and the ways in which this shapes them and their relationships with others.  Warnings: Underage Non-con/Dub-con</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Naruto and all affiliated characters belong to Kishimoto Masashi. This story is written without permission and for personal/fan/nonprofit entertainment purposes only.  
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
> Written for a [ prompt](http://kakairu-kink.livejournal.com/704.html?thread=782272#t782272) on the kakairu kink meme.  
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> Prompt excerpt: _There are a lot of fics and doujinshi that have Kakashi as an emotionally and sexually abusive jerk, while Iruka simply takes everything he has to dish out. I'm looking to ground that sort of characterization and relationship dynamic in a cultural context. What forces shaped Kakashi and Iruka's ideas about relationships and appropriate behavior?  
> _

* * *

Kakashi watched as his father greeted the other ninja. There was great fondness there, and also, a little condescension. He greeted the brown-haired man as if he were speaking to Kakashi. "Umino-san."

"Hatake-san."

Sakumo smiled warmly at the woman in the couple. "Noriko-san."

"Hatake-san," she said, her brown eyes alert.

* * *

"That one," Sakumo said, after the couple had passed by, "he's never going to be anything but a chuunin."

By that tone, Kakashi knew that his father spoke of the brown-haired man who walked by them with his brown-eyed wife and his little ponytailed boy.

"Pity about the wife. No bloodline, but a good family. She could have done better. Maybe even gotten someone from a lesser branch house."

"What do you mean?"

"It doesn't do well to hitch up two horses of different heights. Do you understand?"

Kakashi frowned. "Their paces won't match?"

"Very good, Kakashi."

"What about you and Mother? Do you two have the same pace?"

His father chuckled. "Your mother and I have different strengths that make a stronger whole. I'm good at ninjitsu, and she's good at keeping house. That's the way it should be, where everybody on the team knows their place." Sakumo looked down casually at Kakashi. "Tell me Shinobi Rule Four."

Always ready for his father’s tests, Kakashi recited, "A shinobi must always put the mission first."

"Correct," Sakumo patted his son’s head. "You’re our mission, Kakashi. It is up to us to make sure you arrive at your fullest potential."

Kakashi nodded. He was proud to be with his father, this great ninja everybody seemed to know and respect.

"I won't. But, what about the team?"

Sakumo thought about how to phrase his next sentence. "On the road of life, a ninja is always making choices. Following the rules and regulations will take you down a certain path, the path of an elite ninja, the path of becoming the perfect tool. Breaking those rules take you down another path, the one taken by trash. You have to decide, which road will you travel on?"

"I will be an elite ninja," Kakashi said, firmly. Then he asked, "What about other people on the team? How they might feel?"

Sakumo asked, "What is Rule 25?"

"A shinobi must never show emotion."

"Correct."

Kakashi basked in the brief approval.

"If you're captain, then it doesn't matter what other people on the team feel. Emotions are just useless baggage."

"What if I'm not the captain?" Kakashi asked.

"You will become a captain, someday soon." Then, reluctantly, Sakumo said, "But if you are not, then you must listen to your taichou. But I hope that you won't ever be on a team that makes you choose. Because the mission always comes first. Anyone who does differently is a failure."

* * *

"Daddy, what's wrong with being a chuunin?" Iruka asked, overhearing the comments the silver-haired man was making to his little boy.

"There is nothing wrong with just being a chuunin," Iruka's father said to him. "One can spend one's life happy as a chuunin."

Noriko sucked in her breath. "Roka, you can't let him fall into the trap of low expectations," she warned. "You must always strive to be the best that you can," she told her son.

"What if chuunin level is the best he can achieve? Would you rather he be endlessly unhappy because of something he can never reach?" Roka sighed.

"I want him to achieve something more than me. Is that so wrong? I was a tokubetsu jounin before I turned up pregnant," she stated.

"I know," he said, mildly.

"I wasn't born to be a stay-at home mother. I'm shinobi, not civilian."

"Yes," Roku nodded.

"Once Iruka starts school, I'm going back on active duty," she warned.

Roka's face was shadowed with concern, but he only said, "If it makes you happy."

"You'll just have to go back to teaching so you can be at home." Softly, she muttered, "It would have made things easier if you had been the woman."

* * *

"Kakashi?" Minato opened the door to his study, the light from the hallway flooding the dark room.

"Minato-sensei?" the eight-year-old turned towards his jounin-sensei, blinking as his eyes hurried to adjust. He covered the lower half of his face with his hands, perhaps trying to hide the tears. He sat upright in the corner of the room, a tanto lay on the floor in front of him. The futon, piled high with blankets, lay untouched in the center of the makeshift bedroom.

Minato asked, "Are you okay?" He had heard the sobbing, but was afraid to do anything, knowing how touchy Kakashi was about any break of the shinobi rules. It was only Kushina's prodding that had gotten him out of bed to investigate. He had thought that perhaps Kakashi needed time to absorb the news of the past day. Sakumo, disgraced, and then dead by his own hand. Megumi, overwhelmed with grief, overcome with shame. With uncharacteristic softness, Kushina had suggested that Kakashi stay with her and Minato, for as long as Megumi might need. Even genuises require time to understand that their parents are gone.

Minato looked at Kakashi's straight spine and squared shoulders. It seemed like almost too much to bear for someone so small, as if life had hurried to see how many burdens a genius could take.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

Kakashi nodded.

"The funeral is tomorrow - "

"I'm not going."

Minato carefully asked, "Why? He's your father. You should go."

His childish voice ringing in judgement, Kakashi said, "He failed in his mission. He failed his teammates. He failed Konoha."

Minato said, gently, "Everyone fails, Kakashi. At something, sometimes. And people should be remembered for their successes as well as their failures. Your father was also a hero of Konoha, a great warrior, a good man who tried to be a good father."

Stubbornly, Kakashi said, "He was an elite ninja, and he left me. He failed me. I won't ever want to talk about him or be reminded of him again."

Minato could almost hear Sakumo's voice, and he worried.

* * *

Iruka woke up. Something, a sound, maybe, had penetrated through his sleep. He lay still, waiting. The sound, a harsh cough, repeated. He got up and crept down the hall.

In the living room, a masked person lay slumped against the couch. Their bloody, dirty armor might at one time have been white. His father knelt in front of the couch, a full medical kit spread out on the floor.

"Who is that? Who are you?" Iruka asked, his voice piping in the quiet.

"Iruka," his father said, his soft voice pitched oddly low. "Go back to your room."

"Who is that?" Iruka pointed to the person on the couch.

The person coughed again, a terrible hacking. After the coughing subsided, the person raised a fist and punched the cushions beneath them, perhaps in frustration.

Roka looked at Iruka. "If you're going to stay, you might as well be useful. Go into the kitchen, and bring back a bowl of warm water and a towel."

Iruka returned, requested items in hand. His father had taken some of the armor off, and was swabbing down an arm that had a sluggishly bleeding wound on it.

As Iruka reached to take the mask off - his father's voice stopped him. "No," Roka said. "You never take off an ANBU mask. They have to do it."

"Hey - why can't you take off your mask?" Iruka asked the person on the couch.

"Iruka, you don't speak to ANBU. You wait until they address you first."

"Why?"

"That's the custom."

"What's custom?"

"A custom is how people do things, and have done things for a long time. And waiting to speak until spoken to is a custom with ANBU."

"Then what about the mask? What if they can't take off the mask?"

"Then they can't." Roka continued calmly to dress the wound.

"Why not?"

"That's the custom, Iruka. They need to be ready to take off the mask themselves. It's safest that way."

Iruka sat back on his heels as he watched his father tenderly minister to the person on the couch. Roka spoke, his voice soft as he gently removed all the rest of the armor. "Iruka, it is the duty of the the lower ranked ninja and civilians to support the upper ranked ninjas. They bring money into the village, and they protect us with their power."

"What do you mean 'support?'"

"Support means we love them and heal them and give them what they need."

"Is that a custom too?"

"Yes." After he was done washing the lax limbs in front of him, Roka said, "Go back to bed, Iruka."

And Iruka did.

In the morning, he saw his mother pale and exhausted, lying on the couch. The mask was nowhere to be seen. Her arm was bandaged with his father's careful wraps. "You should have seen it, Roka. So much power. The jutsu -" she was saying, her voice raspy, exhilarated. When she saw Iruka, she halted. To Iruka's uncritical eyes, she looked beautiful, even though the left half of her face was bruised. After all, she was still alive. Lots of mommies and daddies never came back.

"Mommy!" Iruka exclaimed, running into the room.

"Iruka!" She took a good look at him and asked, "Have you been practicing? Has Daddy been doing drills with you?"

"Um - " he shifted his eyes over to his father.

"Roka!" she struggled to sit up, wincing in pain.

"I promise, Noriko, I'll do it next time."

"He's going to fall behind!"

"Iruka tested very high in intelligence. He can skip a few days."

"You tested high in intelligence, and look at you, still a chuunin. Passed over for promotion how many times?" She ignored Roka's tightening lips. "So, tomorrow."

Roka nodded. "We'll do it tomorrow."

"I'll do it tomorrow. You do it today. We have to prepare him for his future, Roka. I don't understand why you don't understand that."

"He's just a little boy, Noriko. He can stop training for a few days and play." Roka gestured to the window, pleading. "It's the first snow of the season."

"Forget the snow. I don't want him like some of those useless orphans the Sandaime demanded they put into the academy. They can't even mold chakra properly."

"They can't help not having parents, Noriko. We should remember their sacrifice -"

"Their parents sure as hell could have done a better job preparing them so they don't turn into front line fodder."

Roka bit his lip and bowed his head. "I'll do it with Iruka today. After school."

"You know the only way to make a child stronger is to beat them until they can beat you," Noriko said, consolingly.

"I know, I know," Roka said. "Sometimes, I just wonder if there's a different way."

"At least we're not like Mist-nin," Noriko said. "Damn bloody Mist. They treat their kids worse than animals."

* * *

Iruka entered the little room, a bruise starting to bloom robustly along his cheekbone. It had been a bad day. He had refused to submit, as he should, to the senior boys in the class, to his sensei, to anyone. He had been sent to the vice-principal's office in disgrace, who in turn brought him to his father's desk.

"What's the matter now?" Roka asked the vice principal, resigned.

"Another fight. Third one this month. I'll ask you to discipline him." The older, heavy-set man nodded toward Roka and then left the father and son.

Roka's dark eyes took in his son. "Iruka, what happened?"

Explosively, Iruka yelled, "It's not my fault!"

"Calm down." Roka waited until Iruka took several deep breaths. "What happened?"

"The older boys think they know everything. They don't know anything. They think they can treat anybody younger than them anyway they want. But they can't! They started picking on Aniki - she's only a little girl - and not even from a big clan - and it's not right! They're always doing that!" Iruka's chest began to heave with righteous anger. "And then Sensei took their side! He's always on their side!"

"You're right," Roka said. "You're right to defend the weak, the ones who can't help themselves."

Iruka gulped. He met his father's somber expression. Then the tears broke. He walked into his father's open arms, rubbing his tears into his father's faded navy uniform. Roka tucked the boy into his chest, rubbing slowly at his back.

"There, there, Iruka. You're a good boy with good instincts. But you can't just get into fights all the time. You have to understand there is a way of doing things."

"You mean 'customs?'"

"Yes. That's because older boys are your superiors, and someday one of them may be your captain. You can't tell him what to do. A shinobi must never question their commander -"

"What if what's happening is really wrong?"

Roka continued patiently, as if he hadn't been interrupted. "So if you see something that bothers you, you have to get a grown-up, a teacher. Only a grown-up can tell a senior boy what to do, no matter what he's done."

"What about a grown-up? Who tells them what to do?"

"Sometimes, it’s their team leader, or their taichou. My team leader is the vice-principal."

"You have to do everything the vice-principal tells you?"

Roka nodded. "I have to submit to his orders, his better judgement. Always."

"Who gives orders to your taichou?"

"The Hokage."

"So, no matter what, the Hokage is everybody's boss, and we have to do everything the Hokage says?"

"Yes."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

* * *

Iruka ran as fast as he could, his teachers bellowing behind him. An arm shot out of an alleyway, grabbing him. His gleeful crowing faded as he stared at the silver-haired boy with a mask covering the lower half of his face. The boy didn't seem much taller or older than he was, but he had a cold confidence that Iruka hadn't ever seen in another kid his age.

"Let me go," Iruka pleaded.

The boy tilted his head towards the yelling adults headed in their direction. Sounding bored, he said, "What did you do that made them so mad?"

Iruka's smile lit up his whole face. "I water-bombed a classroom with a new technique. It was awesome."

Usually, Iruka's joy was infectious. Not this time. The silver-haired boy studied him as if he was a new kind of dirt to catalogue.

"You don't do stupid things. It could kill you and everybody around you," the boy said icily. Then he smacked Iruka on the back of his head and gave him into the hands of the adults.

* * *

"Kakashi, you did what?"

"I gave that kid back to the academy instructors. That's the right thing to do."

Kushina growled. "You're supposed to be allies with people your age - not with the academy instructors."

Kakashi blinked. "They are my superiors. They wanted the kid. I gave them the kid."

"Good afternoon," Minato greeted, entering the room.

Kushina demanded, "Minato, you've got to get Kakashi on a team."

"He's still too young. There are no graduating students his age, and there won't be for a couple of years. Why? What happened?"

"I saw a kid running from some teachers. He said something stupid about water-bombing a classroom." Scornfully, Kakashi added, "He'd be dead already in a real battle."

Kushina said, "You explain it to him, Minato."

"It's kind of complicated," Minato began, under the scrutiny of both sets of eyes, one dark and intense, one blue and equally intense. He cleared his throat nervously.

"There are teams," Minato said, "and there are teams. There is your immediate team - your captain and your teammates, and there is your larger team, of Konoha. In a non-life threatening situation, it's okay to go with the teammates of your age, as opposed to the superiors."

"That makes no sense, Sensei," Kakashi said. "Why would I ever disobey a superior officer?"

"Sometimes, it makes sense to work around the orders of a superior officer," Minato said. "You've got to look underneath the underneath."

Kushina, rolling her eyes, said, "It really doesn't make any sense, Minato. Kakashi - see here. What you did has nothing to do with rank or duty or ninja rules. It has everything to do with empathy, love and friendship. Making and maintaining bonds. Those things are the unspoken part of the shinobi rules. Those are rules for humans."

"If it's unspoken, then it can't be important. Emotions are just useless baggage for an elite ninja."

After years of contact, Kushina could read Kakashi's scepticism through the mask. She rubbed her forehead. "I can't believe I have to explain this. Don't you think the kid was just having fun? Couldn't you let him get away with it?"

Kakashi looked at her blankly.

Kushina looked pleadingly at Minato. He spread his hands helplessly.

She said, "You need to have some friends your age. You don't have any. What you did, handing over that boy, is the opposite of making friends. It will guarantee you never having friends. What you did is almost a betrayal of comradeship."

"We're not comrades."

"Everybody in Konoha is a comrade," Minato said.

"He's just a kid doing something stupid," Kakashi protested.

"And you're very powerful, but -" Minato said.

"Power needs to be balanced with empathy, love and friendship," Kushina broke in.

Minato continued, "It is the number one duty of the more powerful to protect the weak. Someday, the weaker might be in a position to assist you. Or you might be weak one day and need protection."

"I won't," Kakashi said, arrogantly.

"Yes, Kakashi, you will. All of us have those days. And even if you don't, protecting the younger and weaker is a constant and underlying mission for all of us. Regardless of ability or age, we are all comrades."

* * *

Norika was chatting with a neighbor in front of their door. "Sure, I could have married into a bloodline. Not that it means anything. You know the council turns a blind eye to any pain-in-the-ass civilian if she has a baby with bloodline and can prove paternity."

"Doesn't help that the council has started giving bonuses to anyone who's bred a bloodline. Doesn't matter if the baby is a bastard."

"Hell, that's how the Uchihas started. All it took was a Hyuuga with a wandering eye -"

"Mommy! Mommy! A police officer came to school today," Iruka exclaimed, bursting into the small yard.

"What? Why?" Noriko asked after politely parting from the neighbor and the entering the house.

Roka sighed, placing his and Iruka's lunchboxes on the counter. "They came to get Kazuhiro. His father's in the hospital."

"Mission?" Noriko asked, looking at her husband sympathetically.

Softly, Roka said, "Nami's in custody. She broke. At home. It was lucky that Kazuhiro was already at school."

"What is this? The second or third time? When you're undisciplined... " Noriko tched, suddenly impatient.

"Where's Kazuhiro going?" Iruka asked.

Noriko asked Roka, "Are there any relatives left?"

"He won't have to go to the orphanage, will he?" Iruka's eyes widened, dampness pooling in them.

Roka hurried to kneel down next to Iruka. "Oh, no, Iruka. No. I think there's a civilian aunt."

"If Kazuhiro goes to live with his aunt, won't he have to stop being a ninja?"

"I think that depends on his aunt," Roka said.

"I can't think of anything worse than not being a ninja," Iruka said. "Being all weak and poor and unable to defend yourself. I'd rather be an orphan. At least that way you can still go to the academy."

"Mm," Noriko said, thoughtfully. "That's right."

"Kazuhiro told me that whenever the police come to get you, you’re supposed to draw flowers and trees, not what you really saw. If you draw flowers, you come home faster."

"Who told him that?" asked Roka, frowning.

"His mom." Iruka looked up at Noriko, eyes bright. "Hey, what're we having for dinner?"

* * *

"Thank you for your hard work."

Kakashi looked down at the maroon-colored envelope placed in front of him, on top of the regular white envelope. "What is this?"

The mission desk ninja looked at him in surprise. "You don't know? Must be your first. That's your killing bump."

At Kakashi's continued silence, the older ninja explained, "A killing bump. A solo assassination mission completion bonus. You did it in time with no witnesses and no harm to yourself. Seems to have been a good clean kill."

Suddenly, something clicked into place. Kakashi had passed by restaurants any number of times, barely registering the rowdy, red-faced shinobi inside the large windows, waving their maroon envelopes as they bellied up to the bar.

The mission desk ninja grinned at the boy's dawning comprehension. "Maybe you can go buy your friends a round of juice boxes."

* * *

It was the boy's crying that Kakashi heard, before he saw him. He'd been running over the rooftops, so lightly that even the mice in the attics would not have known that he'd been there. He dropped down, landing softly on the largely empty training grounds.

The boy's startle reflex was quickly stifled, but not quickly enough. Mid-curriculum academy student. He sniffled, and then squinted up at Kakashi, the scar over his nose wrinkling. Then he turned away.

Under his mask, Kakashi frowned. He wasn't used to so being dismissed by someone younger than him, and so obviously under-powered.

"Hey," he said.

The boy lifted his head, brown eyes finding the hitai-ate and then the two dark eyes underneath.

Kakashi said, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing." The boy pulled into himself.

Kakashi walked over to the vending machine at the edge of the grounds. He checked his pockets. Empty. He pulled out the maroon envelope. Inside was a wad of bills. He fished out the smallest one, shoved it into the machine, pushed a button, checked for change and waited. He grabbed the can, noting the heat of metal against his glove. Then he handed the drink to the boy. "You want it?"

"Why would I take it from you?" the boy asked, scowling.

"You're shivering. You don't have a coat. It might snow today." Kakashi pointed out the obvious.

"What is it?" the boy asked, still looking at Kakashi's hitai-ate.

"Hot chocolate. Just take it. There is no underneath the underneath here," Kakashi said, exasperated.

Warily, the boy took the can. He cupped it in his hands, absorbing the warmth.

Kakashi got himself a drink. It was only after Kakashi had cracked his can open and drank that the boy finally opened his can, sniffed it suspiciously, and then brought it to his lips.

"Why are you doing this?" the boy asked.

Kakashi didn't really know himself, except that he had been thinking about Minato-sensei and Kushina-san and the extra bulk of the maroon envelope in his weapons pouch. "I heard you crying."

"So?"

Kakashi said, "I'm your senior, that means you listen to me, but it also means I have to take care of you."

"So you're my captain?"

Kakashi nodded.

The boy frowned.

"Why were you crying?" Kakashi asked.

Reluctantly, the boy said, "My parents."

"They're dead?"

"No. They're fighting. I ran away." He looked up. "Do your parents fight?"

"Mine are dead."

The boy thought about this for a while. "Do you miss them?"

"No. Yes. Sometimes." The boy confused Kakashi, and he found himself saying things he had never intended.

The boy nodded, as if the confusion were merely a confirmation of something he already knew. "Who takes care of you?"

"I take care of myself," Kakashi said.

"You don't have anyone?"

"No."

"You live all alone?"

"Yes. I used to live with Sensei, but I moved out," Kakashi said. "I like being alone."

The boy frowned. "I don't think I would like that," he said.

"It's a very nice house." Why was he trying to convince this kid?

The boy drained the can. "Thanks for the drink. I've got to get home now. I'm sure they've made up. They always do. I just worry until Mom comes back home so Dad can take care of her."

The boy waited until Kakashi finished his drink, then he took both cans to the trash.

"Bye," he said, and flashed Kakashi a smile of startling sweetness. "Maybe I'll see you around, taichou."

Without meaning to, Kakashi smiled back.

* * *

It was a strange winter. There came the heaviest snows anyone could remember in many years. As if nature was trying to cover up the huge scars the Kyuubi had left over the landscape, all the damage on one side of the village.

Only after Minato-sensei had died did Kakashi understood how protected he'd been. Sensei had refused his application to ANBU the entire time he'd been Yondaime.

But Minato-sensei was dead. His name had been scratched into the Hero's Monument months ago. Kakashi wanted to get over it. But he just couldn't help it. He knew he was supposed to be proud of the sacrifice. But he wasn't. He just felt incredibly sad and helpless.

The Sandaime had accepted his ANBU application. And now, Kakashi was Hound. Hound had been assigned to Raccoon by an overwhelmed, grieving administration. Kakashi had heard of Raccoon, but only in whispers, only by people with their masks on.

Raccoon had demanded to see him, alone. His captain still had his mask on when Kakashi entered the room, one of the peculiarly sterile rooms used for debriefing.

Kakashi asked, "Are we going to talk about the mission?" He moved to take his mask off, but was stopped by his captain's abrupt movements.

"Keep the mask on. Turn around. Take your pants off and bend over. That's an order, Hound."

Kakashi did so. He heard the sounds of the man behind him undressing. He had heard that some captains did this as a form of initiation. He had guessed this might happen sometime - he had been warned in code by others during training, older members of ANBU. Although there wasn't any in ANBU younger than he was, nobody in ANBU ever got to be truly old.

He closed his mind as he followed orders. He could not fight, would not lash out, must not kill the body attached to the meaty hands holding him down. It was for the team, and every shinobi did their best to promote teamwork and honor Konoha. It was his duty. Minato-sensei would have expected nothing less.

He shut out the chill of his exposed limbs, the wrenching pain, the noise of Raccoon gasping above him, the feel of alien flesh thrusting against him, in him.

When it was over, Raccoon left the room as quickly as possible. Kakashi threw off his mask. He dropped to lay against the cold, hard floor. His breath sobbed drily in his chest. Never again would he be a subordinate. Never again would he be vulnerable. He would be dominant or run his missions alone.

He reached out to touch the white painted walls. It was like snow. Cool, numbing, clean snow.

* * *

It was the first winter without his parents. It was the first winter without parents for many of them.

The orphanage was bursting at the seams with all the new children.

Iruka, who had been so small and seen as weak, suddenly became the big brother, the team leader of the younger orphans. He didn't have time to think too much about his loss, and he was glad about it. He was caught up in the daily motions of school and practice and caring for the littlest ones. He had been lucky. He had had his parents, both of them, for a long time. He was almost finished with academy, and would be assigned a jounin-sensei and a team soon. He didn't have long to be lost and unattached. Anyone older than him was being hurried into service already.

It was the younger ones that worried him. Some mornings, he would wake up to find a half-dozen little bodies clustered on and around his futon, clinging to him in their sleep. Sometimes, more. Didn't they know he was sad too? Couldn't they leave him alone? But the voices of the littlest children, crying in their sleep, drowned it out. He soothed them as best he could. He didn't know that he spoke to them with his father's words.

They stole his blankets, begged the clothes off his back. They needed someone, anyone, so badly. The adults at the orphanage couldn't cope, not with the huge influx of children, and not with their own losses, not with the change that came with having the Sandaime return to office.

He didn't sleep as much as he'd like, he was never warm, and he never got to sleep alone, and he rarely ate until he was full. Konoha was suffering - so many had died and there wasn't much financial reserves available for the weakest of them. There was too much need all over. He didn't want to think about it. Instead, he joked. He capered. He japed for all around him.

His grades suffered. He didn't practice as much as he should have. His mother's voice rang over and over in his head about where he would end up in his life without the practice. A failure. A chuunin for life. If he could even pass the exam. Lots of other students' grades were also suffering. He figured that the senseis would probably let him pass anyway. They would probably let a lot of people pass that year.

Still, he loved going to the academy. If he arrived early enough in the mornings, driving the younger ones in front of him, the kitchen staff would scrape out bowls of warm gruel. At noon, there was the hot lunch, on which he gorged himself. It was blissfully quiet and warm in the classrooms. Sometimes, he would fall asleep. Nobody bothered him in class.

One day, the orphanage pantry went empty. Not a grain of rice, nor stick of noodle, nor drop of milk was left. As time ticked onward, the crying and whining got to be overwhelming.

Iruka thought back and realized that none of the adults had shown up for days. There didn't look like anybody would be coming to save them. He didn't know what to do, except that he had to go find someone to talk to. The only person he could think of was the Hokage.

The middle ones were put in charge of the smallest. Then he had to change that plan because they wanted to follow him wherever he was going. He put his head against the wall in frustration. This was not how one rushes Hokage tower, with an army of snotty, hungry brats. But he couldn't leave them.

Iruka gathered up the youngest, the one that might not make it much longer, the one who seemed born the day Iruka arrived at the orphanage. He slung the baby in a carrier over his front. As he marched through the streets, shinobi took a look at him and seemed to verge on laughing: a skinny little preteen terrier with his own, rather dirty, smelly flock. As they more closely saw his burden, with its blond thatch of hair and whisker-like cheek marks, they backed away.

Iruka used these reactions to his advantage - forcing quick access into the Hokage's chambers.

Once inside, facing the elderly leader, Iruka stated his mission. He demanded rice and milk for the children, some clothes, some responsible adults who would be in charge of the orphanage.

"Aren't you the fool in the senior class?" The Sandaime's sharp, dark eyes looked at him tiredly. He puffed on his pipe, slowly, taking in the ridiculous tableau in front of him.

Iruka's hopes flagged. He _was_ the fool of the senior class. Iruka looked down and away, as he should in the face of such authority.

"Why should I listen to someone who is only interested in stupid things? Don't you know that a shinobi must never question their commander?" With a grunt, the Hokage turned back to his open scrolls, advisors, and tea.

When Iruka turned, he saw the tears in the eyes of the children with him, the hope and anguish. One whispered, "Are we going to eat now, Iruka-taichou?" and pointed to one of the little cakes the Hokage had on a side table. The girl beside him shook her head. The sad resignation caused Iruka's shame to turn to a boiling-over fury.

"Just because I'm a fool doesn't mean I can't see what is happening," Iruka replied, sharply.

"Tell me, what is happening?" The Hokage's voice prodded.

"It is our duty to support and love you - how can we do that if you don't protect us?"

"I should have you taken out front and beaten for doubting my leadership," the Hokage said, smoke drifting lazily from his pipe.

Iruka bowed his head. "I am willing to make that sacrifice for my team."

"This is your team?" The corners of the Hokage's withered mouth rose up as he gestured to the children in front of him, ruining the fine furnishings with their grimy fingers and snow-and-mud-stained shoes.

"We are your team," Iruka said. "Shouldn't you, our Hokage, prepare us 'before it is too late to?' "

And when the Hokage nodded, and called for food for the children, Iruka stilled with disbelief. Hesitantly, tears threatening to clog up his throat, Iruka asked, "Why?"

"You passed the test. A good shinobi knows when to break the rules, especially if it's for their team," the Hokage said, smiling like a teacher at a prize pupil.

**Author's Note:**

> Thinking about the Jesuit motto "Give me a child until he is seven and I will give you the man", which is based on a quotation by Ignatius Loyola.
> 
> I never meant to do it, but this could be considered a prequel to "Last Ship out of Snow Country."
> 
> This is most definitely AU, supposing that ANBU was created by the Nidaime. This is based on the second databook, which states that he "greatly contributed to Konoha's establishment as a system."
> 
> Shinobi rules (via narutopedia)  
> 4\. "A shinobi must always put the mission first."  
> 25\. "A shinobi must never show emotion."  
> "A shinobi must see the hidden meanings within the hidden meanings."  
> "A shinobi must never question their commander."  
> "A shinobi must prepare before it is too late to."


End file.
